


Next Time

by Xairathan



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Gen, Post-Third Impact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xairathan/pseuds/Xairathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Third Child came back first, the Second Child came back second, so it would only make sense that the First Child would come back third. That’s not the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

The Third Child came back first, the Second Child came back second, so it would only make sense that the First Child would come back third. That’s not the case. The body Shinji finds washed up on the shore is too tall to be Rei; her flowing hair brown instead of gentle sky blue, and when she opens her eyes, they sparkle blue as well: not like Asuka’s; they are brittle aqua quartz, rather than empty sapphire. 

Her lips twitch, but only red liquid comes out between them. It’s too pink and thinned to be blood, too inoffensive to the senses to be LCL. It has to be water. She came from the sea. When she looks at Shinji, he can see her pupils dilate and contract. Maybe she recognizes him from Instrumentality, as one of the many minds that had brushed against each other in that crowded, unified entity. 

She takes a deep breath. Her first words are a question. “Where’s Yui?” 

Yui. Mother. Shinji whispers his thoughts aloud. His logic unravels and drifts around him, like streamers in a restless breeze. Grabbing for one, he wonders how this girl knows his mother. It doesn’t matter. Mother is away. If she knows her, she would know that, right? But he answers, just in case.

“Out there.”

The girl sits up, and for the first time, notices the decapitated Lilith on the horizon. The recognition in her eyes increases twofold. As she stands, she burns like a sun, radiating hope enough to blot out the scarred moon. Shinji watches her leap into the sea, watches her until she is a vanished speck against the marble statue of a fallen god. Only when he turns back toward the city does Shinji realize he didn’t ask her name. 

The next morning, Shinji takes his morning walk again. Another body has washed up. So many bodies, when all he wants are fish, something to eat other than vegetables. As he gets closer, he notices it’s the same girl from the day before. She hears him coming by the crunch of the dried earth. 

“She wasn’t in there.”

The girl doesn’t sound disappointed, only resigned, Shinji notes. Edging closer, he sees things he missed the day before. The twin-tails. The red glasses clutched in one hand. Every scar engraved on her skin, which is strange, as Asuka’s have all vanished. As Shinji looks upon her, he sees only darkness behind her quaking eyes and an empty shell under her bloodless skin. 

“Next time,” she whimpers, her voice rasping against the silence. Her tongue slides out from between dry, chapped lips and moistens them, the only comfort she can give to herself. 

For a while, Shinji watches her. The only thing she does is blink. Her eyes don’t track the movement of the bloody crest etched into the purple sky, nor do they move toward him as they did the first time around. “I never got your name,” he mumbles. 

“Next time,” the girl repeats. From her tone it’s clear she wants nothing to do with a conversation. Shinji shuffles past, careful not to kick sand into her face. A few pale grains attach themselves to her hair, displaced by his unsteady gait. She doesn’t move. Even Asuka was less catatonic than her, he thinks. Maybe he could snap her out of it, but he doesn’t want to turn back. She’s not going anywhere. Tomorrow, if she needs it. 

When he arrives on the beach the next day, she’s vanished, leaving a sand angel imprint as the only evidence of her passing. Shinji kneels over it and strangles it anyway. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an attempt to go 3/3 on the mental breakdown scale this week; turned into something else entirely. Dedicated to asknervschildren on tumblr.


End file.
